


Helping Hand

by VisionaryGalaxy



Series: A Thousand Futures of Me and You [168]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Masturbation, Not Good, OT3, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 06:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19351615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisionaryGalaxy/pseuds/VisionaryGalaxy
Summary: Where Bruce has feelings, a lot of anger, and gets a helping hand.





	Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Started this sometime before Endgame and only finished it now. Listen, it ain't very good but let's call it a popcorn read yeah?

   Bruce ran a trembling hand through his curls for the seventh time as he waited on the coffee to be ready, all the while taking measured breaths and willfully ignoring the heat along his spine, the turning in his stomach, the irritation prickling his skin.

   He had nothing to be angry or even annoyed about. Things were fine, perfectly, blissfully, fine. Which only meant Hulk was anything but, taking this as a moment of weakness to make his presence known. Bruce wasn’t afraid of him popping out in this specific instance, thought that did nothing to quell the ever-present feeling of helplessness.

   He wondered, as he often did these days, if he would ever get used to the feeling. Somehow, he doubted it.

   “Bruce?”

   He startled at the sound of a familiar rich baritone, gentle yet powerful. Turning to face the sound of that mesmerizing voice, he found two eyes looking down at him in a kaleidoscope of colour, standing just inside what would be his comfort zone with anyone else.

   “Stephen,” he greeted quietly, taking in the sorcerer clad in casual clothing; pajama bottoms and a plain black t-shirt.

   “You alright?” he inquired. For some reason that Bruce couldn’t fathom, it was only when that question fell from Stephen’s mouth that it didn’t feel intrusive, weary. No, when Stephen looked down at him with that slight head tilt and half smile, it was nothing but genuine concern, not that he might Hulk out, only that he might not be ok.

   “Rough morning,” it wasn’t the answer he would give to anyone but him or Tony, and that too was still difficult to wrap his head around.

   Stephen’s mouth opened as though he intended to speak when another equally familiar voice rang into the room, “good morning, please tell me the coffee is done?”

   The tall man took a step back and Bruce felt like he could breath a little easier, something he only noticed in that moment, though of course he knew why. Reaching past him, Stephen pulled out two mugs with fingers trembling harshly, prompting Bruce to take them from him with a grateful smile, their fingers brushing in the process.

   Then Tony was there, clapping a hand on his shoulder, sending a little shockwave through him because to this day Tony was still the only one to touch him so casually, carelessly, “you’re a lifesaver Bruce,”

   He should feel crowded, suffocated by the surrounding bodies but he didn’t. Still, Bruce hadn’t made it this long without avoiding his limits, so he was quick to pour his coffee, swipe up the sugar and retreat to the other side of the island where the milk waited.

   There was thrumming inside him, powerful enough to overshadow the irritation from before. He knew why, could admit to himself, as he watched Tony reached up to plant a quick kiss to Stephen’s lips, who in turn wound his arms around his waist, that he envied them, desperately.

   Except, it wasn’t the intimacy itself that he missed, no. He had longed bemoaned his own audacity to want _them_ , Stephen and Tony, to be the ones holding him in their arms, teasing and ribbing, kissing him, loving him. It had been a bit of a shock in the aftermath of Titan to meet this tall sorcerer, clever and quick enough to match Tony’s wit, to realize he felt the same yearning for him that he had for Tony over the past several years.

   Then, of course, seeing them together, had only fanned the flames. It was ridiculous and entirely inappropriate to look at his…well friend and teammate for one and Stephen…he supposed they were friends now in that way. He had been pleasantly surprised when Stephen began seeking him out and initiating conversation regarding his work, even if it stung to see what he couldn’t have.

   “Bruce.”

   That damn voice again, dragging him from where he zoned out. It had been happening a lot more recently, simply something to add to his medical analysis journal. Bruce hummed, looking up and feeling his breath catch harshly in his lungs at the beautiful image.

   Stephen was leaning against the counter, tea cupped in two hands, glittering eyes on him with an unnerving focus. Tony, for his part, was leaning against Stephen’s side, sipping at his coffee with barely concealed amusement in his gaze. He felt quite suddenly like he was on the receiving end of some joke he missed and _ah_ , there was the irritation again.

   Which was soundly set aside with Stephen’s next words because the man was simply like that, forever shaping people and emotions around him with ease, “are you busy today? Any big plans?”

   For half a second, he was tempted to make a joke before the words fully registered, leaving him blinking at Stephen in barely concealed confusion. Stephen, however, appeared to be deadly serious. Of course, Bruce didn’t have plans, he never did these days beyond working in the lab, but he wasn’t sure where this was going.

   “No?”

   Tony snorted, shaking his head. Stephen simply smiled, small and reassuring, “good, I wanted to discuss something with you. If you’ll join me at the Sanctuary?”

   His gaze flickered toward Tony, it was instinctive and couldn’t be helped. He knew the Sanctuary was Stephen’s domain and he had complete and total control over who could and could not go there. Still, he’d never gone without Tony and usually Stephen was working while they explored the library, it felt like crossing some invisible line that was probably all in his head.

   Tony didn’t offer anything, simply raised his eyebrow, that smirk playing around his lips. If Bruce was honest, he was dying to know what Stephen wanted to discuss, their work not really intersecting all that much, “yeah, sure, I can do that.”

   “Perfect,” Stephen declared, straightening up and depositing the tea Bruce had only just realized was summoned, into the sink. He pressed a kiss to Tony’s lips and Bruce didn’t even bother trying to look away, though he frowned when something was whispered between them.

   Despite himself, his jaw clenched briefly, annoyance moving through him in a wave, knowing it was likely about him. There were no grounds for that assumption but the way the hairs of his arms prickled proved that his alter ego didn’t care for evidence.

   “Alright,” Stephen turned toward the empty space at the end of the counter, sling ring being taken from his pocket, “let’s go.”

   “What? Now?” he asked incredulously, hands tightening around his coffee cup.

   Stephen gave a short nod, “yup,” and stepped through.

   He looked to Tony who just shook his head, “he’s impatient so I suggest hurrying. Just be glad you’re already dressed.”

   Bruce stood and made his way to the portal. They made him uneasy despite his best efforts and from the sympathetic glance Tony shot him it was nice to know he wasn’t the only one. With a sigh he stepped through and into the familiar hominess that was the New York Sanctum.

   The Sanctum was always soothing though he couldn’t identify why. Something about it just felt completely separate from the rest of the world, like none of the things out there could ever affect him while he was in the protective bubble.

   “This way.”

   Stephen was already walking down the hallway and Bruce had to do a double take, realizing the sleepwear was gone and replaced with his robes, even the Cloak had come from nowhere to rest on his shoulders.

   Bruce gulped audibly as he followed down the narrow corridor, unable to tear his eyes away from Stephen’s back. The man looked good in those robes, ancient as they seemed, fitting his body wonderfully. He’d never understand why Tony liked to tease him so mercilessly about them, especially since he’d seen the glint in the man’s eye too.

   He followed Stephen through an inconspicuous door and into what appeared to be a basic study of some sort. Bookshelves lined the walls with titles in a variety of languages he couldn’t read, only one wall had none, and in its place was a large fireplace.

   It became obvious, very quickly, that this might be Stephen’s private study, and despite himself he was fascinated. It was the only room that didn’t appear to have any relics and as Stephen settled behind a large mahogany desk, Bruce found himself entranced by the confidence and power he seemed to be exuding.

   In silence, Bruce sat on the chair across from him, feeling like he was a bacterium under a microscope as Stephen just stared at him, fingers steepled just beneath his chin. Unsure what exactly he was supposed to do or say, he distracted himself with a few careful breaths, counting them off in his head. That lasted about a minute before the heat on the back of his spine returned and impatience flared within him, “so what exactly can I help you with?”

   Stephen pursed his lips and damn that was distracting, “actually, I wanted to help _you_ with something.”

   “Which is?”

   “Hulk.”

   Bruce stared at him, breath coming a bit quicker, the ever-present rolling irritation flaring and flourishing into a definitive anger. His hands clenched tightly into fists as his stomach twisted with the duel sense of betrayal and bitterness.

   “Help me?” he all but sneered. “You mean _fix_ me.”

   Stephen, to his credit didn’t flinch, eyes steady on him, “that isn’t what I said though, is it?”

   “Oh,” his tone turned mocking. “Many of tried to _help_ me. Lock me up, kill me, all in the name of fixing my little problem.”

   It was nearly infuriating to see Stephen remain unaffected, “good thing I don’t intend to employ either of those tactics.”

   “I’m not _interested_ ,” he growled.

   Hulk was so much closer to the surface suddenly, volatile and pushing just beneath his skin. Bruce closed his eyes against the onslaught, willing himself to push it back despite the position he was in, despite the man he thought was his friend, treating him like an experiment.

   “Bruce,” he squeezed his eyes tighter against the softness of that voice. “Bruce, please.”

   Something warm and soft seeped around and into him. Not constricting or suffocating, simply comforting and he didn’t know where it was from or why it was pushing back all the charged energy inside him.

   A moment of startling clarity hit him, along with a surge of guilt. It had been a rough morning and he shouldn’t have agreed to this meeting when he wasn’t prepared to control himself. Bruce forced himself to open his eyes, take in Stephen’s encouraging smile and couldn’t help when the words slipped out, quiet and regretful, “I’m sorry, really. I shouldn’t have…wouldn’t have-”

   “It’s alright,” Stephen cut him off. When he said it, it was believable, reinforced by the lack of fear in his eyes that was so refreshing. “Can you listen? Or would you like to take a break?”

   “Listen,” the word came automatically, the urge to make up for his behaviour not to be resisted.

   Stephen nodded, leaning forward so that his elbows rested gently on the desk, those knowing eyes piercing in their assessment, “I’ve noticed you’ve been using meditation techniques to help control yourself.”

   Bruce blinked, not expecting the conversation to take that turn and the realization that he had made a pretty drastic assumption only made the guilt multiply twofold. He offered a slow nod, curiosity sparking inside him.

   Stephen smiled a little, “I was hoping you’d let me help you out on that front. I think I could provide guidance that would…make a bigger difference in your management of the Hulk and ultimately make you very happy.”

   He could feel his eyebrows furrow at the strange wording, the intensity of those stunning eyes, the sense that there was more behind that statement then the surface level. Still, his techniques were shabby at best and he knew it, having Stephen, who seemed to meditate half his day away, might actually help make a difference.

   Though, if he was honest with himself, the prospect of spending more time with Stephen was too good to refuse. He liked the man beyond his intellect, good looks, and sharp humor, those were the same things he loved about Tony, but Stephen had something else about him, a patience and dedication that was downright alluring. Maybe he didn’t have the same softness he’d glimpsed in Tony on more then one occasion, but he seemed like he knew how to take care of those he called friend and he felt honoured to suddenly be on the receiving end of those attentions.

   So, with only a little hesitation, he gave a small nod, “I think I’d appreciate that a lot.”

   “Told you he’d agree to it!”

   Bruce turned in his seat as he was startled for the second time that day to find Tony standing in the doorway of the office, grinning and clapping his hands a few times. Stephen blew out a sigh, forever exasperated by the man and Bruce found himself inexplicably amused, even as his heart warmed from the strange feeling of home settling in his chest.

\---

   “Breathe slowly, find your rhythm.”

   Bruce tried to focus but it was difficult when Stephen’s hands kept touching him, light as a feather. This was only their second session, having decided on one hour a day, everyday in the morning.

   He could admit that he already felt himself feeling calmer throughout the day as he practiced Stephen’s techniques religiously, including his suggestion of using it on and off throughout his usual schedule.

   But today was anything other then smooth. Stephen had him lying down on the soft mat instead of sitting and was encouraging him to relax one muscle at a time which was extremely difficult when each touch sent a spark of heat through him. Perhaps it was because he knew Tony was in the corner reading, but each one was also accompanied with a healthy dose of guilt.

   “Bruce,” his tone was sharper, and he found himself focusing all his attention on it. “You’re thinking too much.”

   Stephen was right, he should act like an adult about this. He inhaled slowly and deeply, put all his attention into the place where a gentle tap was placed to his finger and tried to relax only those muscles.

   He blocked out the thrum of annoyance, the hyper-awareness of Tony clad only joggers and a tank-top on the couch, the warmth in his gut with each murmured direction, and remembered why he was there, how nice things could be if he just let it.

   “Good,” the praise sent a prickle along his scalp, but he embraced it and let himself relax further.

   So, it went on, until Bruce was completely lax against the mat, the hardwood beneath barely noticeable, his body pliant and soft under Stephen’s gentle guidance. Even the sounds of the room felt numbed, the crackling fireplace, the turning pages of Tony’s books, the whispered commands.

   It was nice, like an out of body experience without the violence and memory loss. The thickness always buzzing beneath his skin was there of course, though now it wasn’t distracting, it didn’t take monumental effort to keep it from becoming something volatile.

   He drifted for a long while, the only other sensations being the rise and fall of his chest, the pleasant blankness in his head. He only came out of it when a solid feeling pressed against his chest, followed by Stephen’s voice calling to him.

   Bruce blinked up into Stephen’s colourful eyes, realized it was his hand resting on him, and found himself inhaling deeply once more before allowing himself to be guided back as softly as he’d been guided down.

   Stephen’s hands came up to grip his shoulders and help him sit up, mind a little fuzzy as he took in the room and Tony’s smirking face, “pretty good huh?”

   Bruce’s tongue felt a bit thick in his mouth, so he swallowed to clear it, only to feel a glass, trembling a little being pushed to his lips. He drank gratefully, his mind quickly catching up until he found himself staring at Stephen’s smug face incredulously, “what the hell was that?”

   Their first session had been nothing like it. They had simply gone over the basics of meditation and did some exercises. This was…impossible to describe though he intended to make Stephen try.

   Stephen just shrugged, “nothing special,” even Tony snorted at that earning him a glare. “It was just a very old technique used by masters back in the day. We won’t do it often, but I wanted to get an idea of how your body responds.”

   Bruce frowned, mind trying to understand, “wait, did you use magic?”

   Stephen rolled his eyes, “no, now quit over thinking it before you ruin all our hard work.”

   Tony stood then, tossing the book on the couch and coming over to take Bruce’s hands in his and tug him to his feet, “that’s our signal to get out.”

   He went willingly, liking the warm calloused skin pressed against his and jeezus Bruce needed to get a hold of himself. Which was difficult to do when one of Tony’s hands slipped up to rest on his shoulder, touching, always with the touching, not that he was complaining.

   Stephen shook his head a little, before slipping on his sling ring, and Bruce realized that there was another routine emerging. Just like yesterday, it seemed he and Tony would be going to the workshop for a few hours, and that only helped him relax further.

   The portal opened with its spray of sparks, but before they could step through, Tony’s hand still gripping him gently, Stephen leaned in to kiss Tony, merely inches from him and for a moment he was sure this was on purpose, designed to torture him.

   He was just grateful for his self-control because the loose sweatpants he was wearing would have hid nothing from these men. They pulled back, Stephen’s eyes landing on him, dark and unreadable, “see you tomorrow Bruce, remember the exercises from yesterday.”

   He offered a grateful half smile, “thank you.”

\---

   The time in the lab didn’t change in the slightest and he had no idea why he thought it might. He and Tony worked in tandem, a silent rhythm developing between them as they worked, the push and pull of their ideas.

   Sometimes they worked together, but more often then not they simply focused on their own projects. All the same, it was unnerving how in sync they were, how easily they moved around one another like breathing. It was the only other place where his mind was completely focused, where there was nothing to worry about.

   It was a safe place for all sorts of reasons. Tony being the most prevalent. It had been a very long time since Bruce could say with certainty, he had any close friends and since the development of the team, for better or worse, the mechanic had taken front and center.

   The attraction he felt toward the other man hadn’t been anything special at first. Tony Stark exuded confidence and charm that was arrogant to anyone who didn’t know him very well and together it worked like a blackhole, sucking you in. Recently, however, since Titan it was getting harder to ignore. The compound had become a shared space and the lab the most intimate example of that, and like he said there was always the _touching._ A hand brushing against the small of his back, ghosting over his shoulder, guiding his hand on a few memorable instances.

   It was getting extremely difficult to ignore. Especially now. Tony was right next to him, unnecessarily close really and their arms kept brushing against each other. They spoke quietly about the project, something they had been fiddling with regarding reactor power, and the ebb and flow of his voice was distracting.

   “So, what do you think of Stephen’s technique so far?”

   Bruce blinked at him, mind spinning at the sudden change in topic, the way he stepped away as though to get a better look at him. He considered Tony’s expression, open and eager as he slipped off his glasses and wiped at his eyes, a nervous habit.

   “Well we’ve only done two-”

   “But are they helping?” he interrupted.

   Bruce gave a sigh before the smallest of smiles slipped onto his lips, “yeah, its been a bit easier to focus. But time will tell.”

   Tony just grinned, a twinkle in his eye, “good.”

   Bruce frowned, a stray thought making its home in his mind, “you didn’t…tell him to help me, right?” Tony raised an eyebrow and he tried to explain. “I mean you didn’t tell him I needed it right?”

   Tony shrugged, “I mentioned that if he had anything that might help, why not give it a go?”

   “oh,” disappointment bloomed inside him, even if it had no grounds to be there.

   “What? Is that a problem?” his brows were furrowed, confused.

   Bruce shook his head quickly, not wanting to appear ungrateful, “no, I just don’t want him to feel obligated to do this. He has plenty to do besides-”

   Tony cut off his rambling when he snagged one of his hands, the warmth seeping into his skin, “Bruce. Nobody tells Stephen what to do. He’s helping because we both care about you and with it; you could be a whole lot happier.”

   The words spun like a storm inside his head. His heart swelled and he had to force himself to stumble out the words, “right, thanks.”

   Tony just smiled and pulled away, “that’s settled, now I have a meeting according to Pepper and I think I’m already fashionably late.”

   Bruce watched him walk away without another word and once the door at slid shut he carefully counted to thirty before following him out and slipping up a different staircase and all but sprinting to his room.

   It was wrong, so wrong and he knew it.

   He was already shucking off his sweatpants and shirt as he approached the bed, those words on repeat in his mind, _we both care about you,_ and was half hard before he’d even laid on the bed. He was well aware that the Avengers believed his sex life to be non-existent and besides his hand it was. But it had little to do with the Hulk or losing control.

   A few deep breaths and he was fine. As long as he wasn’t angry or in a volatile emotional state, he was good, and arousal did not count toward that. He’d never risk it with a person, however, someone he loved. But by himself there was little to worry about.

   The pang of guilt as he wrapped his hand around his aching arousal was quickly drowned out by the low moan of pleasure that accompanied the action. His eyes fell closed, head tipping back into the pillow and hips thrusting up into his hand gently.

   He couldn’t help himself, mind supplying images of Tony from only moments ago, muscles shifting and straining beneath his skin as he worked, Stephen’s soft touches and deep voice giving him careful commands.

   He _wanted_. Wanted so much that it hurt.

   But he couldn’t and he should stop wishing for things he can’t have. They were beautiful together, complimented their personalities so well and he couldn’t imagine what they’d ever want with a quiet, damaged man like him. Next to them he was nothing, easily ignored and passed over, not that he’d want it any other way, and it was the greatest farce in the world to insert himself where he didn’t belong.

   All the same, he imagined lips against his own, trembling fingers ghosting across his abdomen, the scratch of a goatee along his throat. With a breathless little cry, he spilled across his fingers, hips pumping slowly against his hand, still stuck in the fantasy.

   It was only several minutes later when he forced himself to stand and get in the shower, that shame began to seep through him.

\---

   He quickly discovered that he had a new routine, rarely interrupted but for the occasional emergency. He’d go down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee only to be greeted by Stephen and led through a portal where the following hour and a half they worked on various meditation techniques, though none as strong at that second day. Not long before their time was up, Tony would show, or already be there and together they would go to the lab for a few hours. Inevitably, Bruce would disappear to his room until dinner time or unless he had more work he wished to complete.

   Generally speaking, the exercises were working. It was easier to be in control though the low current of irritation never abated in the slightest. The thing was, Bruce was smart, very smart and he could tell Stephen was working toward something, those eyes always watching for every minute action.

   Still, despite knowing this, expecting it, he was surprised when nearly two weeks later, he was sitting cross-legged in front of Stephen, gaping at him. Stephen was calm as ever, one eyebrow raised as if to ask why he was being difficult and waiting for him to get himself together.

   “You want me to what?!”

   Stephen sighed heavily, “I just want you to try, where is the harm in that?”

   Bruce was at a loss as to why Stephen would think this was a good idea, “first I know for a fact communicating with the Hulk is a bad idea and second, nothing good can come from inviting him that close. I’m trying to repress him not give him a helping hand into me.”

   Stephen stood abruptly, leaving Bruce wondering if he’d somehow pissed off the usually stoic sorcerer. Luckily, he hadn’t, and Stephen simply inclined his head toward the chairs, deciding this conversation wasn’t to be had on the floor.

   Reluctantly he followed, sitting across from him on two armchairs that were pushed out of the way for their sessions, but the Cloak had already rearranged them for their needs. Stephen was back in that position, with his fingers steepled beneath his chin, eyes scrutinizing and now, after two weeks with the man, he simply found it fascinating, the physical evidence of Stephen’s mind at work.

   “I have a theory,” Stephen declared.

   Bruce just raised an eyebrow, “really? And what makes you think yours will work?”

   Stephen smiled a little, sharp and confident in a way that made Bruce bristle, eyes narrowing, “you’re a scientist Bruce and what is one of the fundamental rules when conducting an experiment?”

   He hated to be talked down to but at the same time he was well familiar with Stephen’s leading questions by now, “objectivity.”

   “Right, and who has been making the theories to date?”

   He frowned, arms automatically crossing in front of him.

   Stephen eyes sparked with victory, “exactly, people who have something to gain or a personal interest.”

   “And you don’t?” the question slipped out without thinking, some small part of him always looking for validation of the words Tony uttered on that second day.

   Stephen’s expression seemed to soften some, “I definitely have a personal interest, but I also have a long history in shoving it aside to perform the task laid out before me.”

   Something warm bloomed inside him and Bruce found himself relaxing into his chair, “alright fine, let’s hear it.”

   A jolt went through him when Stephen’s hand reached across the space between them to rest gently on his forearm, the tell-tale trembling making him look down at where warmth flared along his arm.

   “Bruce.”

   He inhaled deeply, instinctively at the deep baritone, all sorts of inappropriate images flashing into his head as he looked up at Stephen’s sincere eyes. It was suddenly the easiest thing in the world to just listen, to let Stephen guide him through his theory and beyond into practice, whatever it was.

   The smile that spread along the sorcerer’s lips was tinged with a knowing victory but instead of irritating him, Bruce found himself returning it, encouraging the man to go on with his idea. Stephen squeezed his arm gently before retracting it and it took effort not to physically show his disappointment, “you’ve been treating the Hulk like a disease. As though he were a foreign substance forced into your body, meant to be managed and controlled.”

   He wasn’t wrong so Bruce opted to say nothing.

   “What I’m proposing,” Stephen continued, eyes lighting with a familiar excitement. “Is learning to forge a symbiotic relationship with him. You two have turned your body into a war zone, vying for its control when it makes more sense to treat it like neutral ground.”

   Bruce blinked at him. Naturally his instincts were to scoff at Stephen’s suggestion because the man had no way of understanding what it actually felt like to be sharing one’s body, to be in the constant struggle. It wasn’t like the Hulk was just another man, he was destructive and murderous, how could he be expected to share his body with that?

   Instead of voicing those particular problems, Bruce chose, as he often did to point out a logistical issue with the theory, “you want me to live in harmony with the Hulk, but that will only work if the Hulk co-operates as well, which is impossible.”

   Stephen tilted his head, “why?”

   A wave of exhaustion suddenly washed through him, a hand coming up to wipe at his eyes, the words heavy on his tongue, “the Hulk wants to live, have a life. We can’t both do that, not without one losing.”

   “But what if you could?”

   “Stephen-”

   “Hear me out,” he said softly, and Bruce found himself listening, always listening. “If we could unleash the Hulk everyday in a controlled environment, he can have his chance. Just like we set aside time for the meditation, we set aside say, two hours a day. He can do what he wants within reason and he’ll stop feeling so repressed, maybe even make it easier for you to manage.”

   When it was said like that, soft and coaxing, it was easy to believe it could work, Bruce _wanted_ the idea to work, no matter how insane. But to willingly give up his body to the Hulk, without a life or death situation threatening him, that was almost too terrifying to consider.

   “What do you have to lose?”

   And that was the crux of it right there. Everything, he had everything to lose. Bruce liked to think himself a practical man and he knew intimately exactly how far he might stray from the life, happiness he’d been steadily building here.

   “My life, me,” he whispered, staring into the fire and seeing another place far far away, with green mascots and screaming crowds.

   Suddenly Stephen was kneeling in front of him, trembling hands gripping his, burning, fierce eyes staring into his soul, “Tony and I would never let that happen. There is nothing we wouldn’t do, wouldn’t risk to keep you safe.”

   The words were passionate, intense to the point of startling. Yet, Bruce found himself relaxing as tension bled from because he believed it. He’d never had friends like these, like Tony and Stephen who were always so helpful and kind and normal. No matter how much he pined and yearned, it was impossible to take for granted such a friendship.

   “Trust us,” Stephen murmured, squeezing his hands. “ _Trust us_.”

   Shakily, Bruce nodded.

\---

   Bruce was sitting on one of the dozens of couches littering the Sanctum, anxiously rubbing his arms as he looked around aimlessly. It had been two days since their conversation regarding the Hulk and today would be the first time they try it.

   He was ready to die.

   A nervous energy had overtaken him that morning, which had led to Stephen promptly conjuring away his coffee and making him do a solid thirty minutes of meditation. It was better but not good, and now Bruce didn’t know what to do with himself.

   “Bruce?”

   Looking up, he found Tony entering the room, a wide grin on face. At least somebody was happy it seemed, though Tony was rarely anything else if it meant an experiment was about to happen.

   “Tony,” he nodded at him, nervous as ever.

   His friend shook his head at him as he clapped him on the back, “quit with the long face. This will work, maybe not the first time or the second or the third-”

   “I get it,” he interrupted tightly.

   “Then don’t sweat it. Stephen has this all planned, the guy is more obsessive then either of us.”

   Bruce stood, shrugging off Tony’s hand as he paced in a tight circle, all his worries rushing to the forefront, “I still don’t understand how you can promise he won’t cause any damage. The Hulk his less then sociable and there is the problem of him running off, in which case how would you guys possibly stop him? Or if he decided to-”

   Hands landed on his shoulders and Bruce found himself looking into familiar deep brown eyes, that were inexplicably soothing. Tony’s brows were furrowed as he spoke, “Bruce, we got this. You have to trust us.”

   He swallowed thickly, “what if you guys get hurt?”

   That had been the real fear keeping him at night. It seemed like they might be stuck in close quarters and he was terrified the Hulk would get them killed, maybe not intentionally but he wasn’t exactly mindful.

   “Oh, trust me Bruce, that isn’t going to happen.”

   He looked up to find Stephen striding into the room, clad in full sorcerer regalia. Stephen was grinning, hands rubbing together with an eager glint in his eyes and just like that, everything in him relaxed.

   Tony shot him a knowing smile, “yeah, the Hulk can deal with a lot but wait till you see Stephen in action.”

   Bruce knew they meant magic, or at least what Stephen called magic, and while he’d never considered how that might tame the Hulk, the confidence on Stephen’s expression was enough to make him believe it.

   “Fine,” Bruce said on a sigh, running an anxious hand through his curls.

   “Good,” Tony’s hand landed on his shoulder again, directing him to follow Stephen toward a plain looking door.

   Stepping inside revealed a large empty room. It didn’t seem to be anything special and Bruce found himself glancing at Tony and Stephen who seemed very self-satisfied. He looked again, and still saw nothing, “I don’t get how this is supposed to contain the Hulk.”

   “Its not,” Stephen confided, eyes glittering with excitement. “This is.”

   Pale, trembling hands raised up in front them and for a moment everything turned a bit shiny. Bruce blinked harshly against it, only to find himself staring at what seemed to be glass shards hovering in the air around them. It was disorienting, like an optical illusion, and honestly made him a bit sick.

   A moment later things seemed to settle visually but still felt a bit…off.

   “This,” Tony declared proudly, as though he had something to do with it. “Is the mirror dimension.”

   “Right, and what is that exactly?”

   Tony frowned, eyes squinting before motioning at Stephen, “you have better words for that question.”

   Bruce couldn’t help but smile as Stephen rolled his eyes, “the mirror dimension reflects our own world. More importantly for our goal today, any damage the Hulk does in here won’t affect the real world.”

   Bruce let that sink in. Plenty of what Stephen had to say about magic continued to boggle his mind, despite all he’d seen. He, like Tony, stood firmly on the belief that there must a scientific side to everything the sorcerers were capable of and simply had yet to be discovered.

   But he knew what Stephen could do regardless of the explanation and he forced himself to imagine what he was saying. The thought of a place that the Hulk could go nuts in without hurting a soul existed was the single most relaxing thing he’d ever heard.

   The way he’d slumped as relief pounded through him must have been evident because the other two were watching him with gentle smiles, “so there’s no way I could hurt anyone? Hurt you guys?”

   “We’ll be in there with you,” Tony admitted but you don’t need to worry. Hulk won’t hurt us and besides, Stephen has plenty of…defensive spells.”

   Bruce shook his head, “not comforted.”

   “Bruce,” Stephen walked up to him, eyes intent and serious. “I asked you to trust us. I’ll ask you again. Its ok if the answer is no but if its yes, then do it. Please.”

   The request required no thought. Bruce already knew the answer and was nodding instantly. These two men had been by his side constantly these past couple months and in the past two weeks had become his closest friends. The idea was still a lot to take in, the realization that he could have friends.

   When Natasha had come to drag him back to civilization, he’d never dreamed of what the world would have in store for him and for the first time in a long time, he was grateful for it. Stephen and Tony were people he’d be willing to do just about anything for, unrequited love not being a factor at all. They were simply powerhouses of that nature, a whirlwind of charm and bad intentions.

   “Ok.”

   The smile that lit up Stephen’s face was a hundred times worth it, as well as the approving gleam in Tony’s eye.

   Bruce took several steps back, away from them. He hesitated only briefly at the hem of his shirt, unable to help the flare of self-consciousness, only to beat it back. He was old enough not to be weighed down by such a thing, especially since both men had seen him shirtless several times.

   He tugged the shirt over his head, keeping his eyes averted, and took a deep breath.

   The anger and frustration were the easiest to reach. It was always there, just simmering beneath the fragile prison of skin, waiting to be fanned into a rage. He felt the irritation slide down his spine, the feeling of his limbs stretching beyond him, his jaw clenching painfully and then just like that…nothing.

\---

   When Bruce came back everything felt…foggy. He’d like to think after all these years the transition would have grown easier, body adjusting to its unique state of being. Of course, that was wrong.

   He lifted his head slowly, blinking rapidly and trying to situate himself. Bruce was startled when a warm hand landed firmly on his arm and lovely brown eyes stared down at him with a wide grin. Tony. A very excited Tony.

   “You alright there Brucy?”

   Nodding slowly the memories rushed back. With them came a sick twist of his stomach as he immediately scoured the room for bright blue eyes and a scuffy goatee. He wasn’t far, Stephen was sitting calmly a few feet away, watching him with interest.

   “Are you guys-”

   “We’re great,” Tony interrupted impatiently. “How do you feel?”

   Bruce stared at him uncomprehendingly.

   “I think,” Stephen tried. “He means, do you feel any different then usual?”

   He took a moment to assess himself. Dizzy, yup. A little sore, of course. Irritated and annoyed…not really. Bruce frowned, eyes flickering closed as he sought out those familiar feelings without calling on them too excessively.

   What he was met with was…serenity, or as close to it as he’d ever gotten. The anger was there but it was buried so deep it took almost no effort to hold back and the realization made something audibly break inside him.

   The tears, when they came, were born out relief and the sheer awe of what had been done. Bruce hadn’t believed it would work, nothing ever had so why should this be any different? Now for the first time he felt like himself again.

   “It worked,” he gasped and familiar arms were pulling him in, and Stephen was at his back shushing him, elegant fingers working through his hair. “ _Thank you_.”

   “Anything,” Stephen murmured.

   “Always,” Tony finished.

\---

   The days after that were different. Bruce had spent the better part of life by then with the constant nagging presence of the Hulk, constantly in battle with himself. Apparently, Stephen had been able to broker of deal sorts.

   Now, for roughly one hour and thirty minutes every day, Bruce existed as the Hulk where either Stephen or Tony (occasionally Thor) entertained him until he was back to being himself. The Hulk was more content, Bruce was more content, and the anger was easier to manage then ever.

   Somehow, in the aftermath, Bruce found himself sliding easily to Stephen and Tony’s lives. At the risk of being intrusive, he said nothing and let them keep up their daily schedule. It wasn’t easy, eating dinner with them and laughing, and admiring the two men who he’d known for ages he was in love with, but being in their presence was worth it every time.

   Weeks past and Bruce was happy as he could be given his situation.

\---

   Bruce blinked as sunlight pierced his eyes, a familiar dizzy sensation making him dig his fingers into the hard concrete beneath, scrapping uselessly against it. He tried to remember what had happened last, an alert at the compound, buildings toppling around them, then…ah, the Hulk must have taken charge from there. His memory was a complete blackout from then on.

   “Bruce?”

   The sound of someone, hoarse and a little shaky, sent a spike of fear through him as he looked up and around frantically. He was in rubble in the middle of the city, surrounded by dust and debris but more importantly, just before him he saw Tony, suit back in its reactor, blood dripping down his temple and in his hands…a body clad in red.

   He stared, horrified at Stephen’s limp form. His mind short-circuited with the sense of wrong that went through him, tumultuous emotion rippling beneath his skin. The Hulk was just beneath the surface, it wouldn’t be hard to push him back, but suddenly he wasn’t so sure he wanted to, craving that oblivion.

   For one wild moment he wondered if he had done it, if the Hulk had gotten Stephen killed.

   “Bruce?”

   Weak and croaking, he looked up to find stormy eyes, watching him, a little dazed but definitely awake. Relief flowed through him, almost enough to make him and sob and without thinking he was crawling forward, one hand gripping his pants, until he was before the two most important men of his life.

   Tony was smiling, holding Stephen close, while his other arm reached out and yanked Bruce closer, until he was being encircled by them both, heart hammering and low chuckles sounding between the three of them.

   It turned out Stephen had been hit while in the air and the Cloak had been too stunned to slow the descent on time, and like an instant replay the Hulk had plucked him from the air just like he had all those years ago for Tony.

\---

   The three of them stumbled into the tower not an hour later. Tony immediately wandered off to the bar with a low groan and Bruce was getting ready to slip away when trembling fingers encircled his wrist and he found himself being tugged over to the couches.

   “Thank you,” Stephen murmured.

   “Technically it was the Hulk-”

   Stephen shook his head, a fond smile on his lips that sent Bruce’s heart racing, “right, I’ll be sure to thank him tomorrow.”

   Tony was standing in front of them then, handing him then, his own grateful smile in place and Bruce was beginning to feel a little loss. There was something about the quiet intimacy of the moment, their bruised and sore bodies, their soft eyes, and careful touches, that made all those lines in his head disappear.

   When Tony sat on the other side of him and they began talking about the battle, the semantics and both of them checking with an increasingly annoyed Stephen, it was no longer possible to ignore the feeling of home settling firmly in his chest.

   The night wore on and Stephen was leaning up against him and Tony was speaking about projects and other everyday things and Bruce couldn’t keep it in anymore. He looked at the man who had his heart for years now, “why are you guys doing this?”

   Tony shook his head, a half smile on his face, “there isn’t much we wouldn’t do for you?”

   Alcohol and sleep exhaustion would be the culprit for his mind’s crazy hallucination.

   Bruce knew the adoration shining in those eyes couldn’t be for him.

\---

   The air around them felt charged with energy as they worked in silence. Tony kept glancing at him, and Bruce was careful not to return it, eyes on the papers in front of him, even if the words were all but gibberish to his scattered mind.

   He had expected things to be awkward after last night, but they were anything but. He’d woken to Tony’s hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him awake, while holding out a steaming cup of coffee that immediately made him alert.

   The first thing he’d noticed was that Stephen was gone, Tony offering some dimensional emergency as way of explanation. He hadn’t known what to say though he shouldn’t have worried, with Tony behaving as though there was nothing unusual about him falling asleep on their couch.

   He’d left him be not long after and now they were here, in the lab, doing what they always did. It was painful in an unfair way, to go from that intimacy to this. The yearning had only grown stronger these past weeks and part of him was tempted to run away, if only he could. The problem was, he knew himself well enough to know that he’d take these odd stolen moments over the loneliness of a pariah any day.

   “How was Stephen feeling when he left?”

   Tony looked up with a half smile, “said he was fine, but I think we both know he probably felt like death warmed over.”

   “That does sound like him.”

   “Hey,” he looked up to find Tony only a few feet away, warm brown eyes flicking over him. “What about you? You were pretty out of it last night.”

   He had been, in fact he felt like he still was.

   “I’m fine.”

   Tony’s eyes were assessing, “Hulk giving us trouble?”

    Bruce tried to fixate on the us and answered as honestly as he could, “I think…he’s been restless.”

   “Restless?”

    He wasn’t sure how to explain. Already he could feel him settling inside his skin after receiving the news Stephen was most likely fine. It was one thing for Bruce to be in love with Tony and Stephen, an entirely other to know the Hulk felt the same way.

   “Its alright.”

   Tony shook his head but let it go. The mechanic didn’t move away, however, instead swallowing thickly. The motion drew Bruce’s attention, long used to Tony’s habits these days and the obvious attempt to shift to a new topic.

   “I’ll have to thank him today, for saving Stephen’s life.”

   Bruce nodded, kind of wished he could thank him too.

   “And you.”

   “Me?” he asked, confused.

   Tony nodded, “if you hadn’t trusted us to try this…well I hate to think we wouldn’t have had a friend in the Hulk to look out for us.”

   There was a long pause between them in which Bruce realized they were standing decidedly in each other’s space, breath ghosting across the little air between them. Bruce could feel Tony’s body heat in the cms between them, a bleak contrast to the coolness of the worktable against his back.

   Warm brown eyes flickered down, and Bruce thought fuck it, because he was tired, and grateful, and in love and so so stupid.

   Tony was the one lean forward as his calloused hands came up to tangle in Bruce’s curls. Soft lips pressed against his own, while Tony’s body finally lined his until there was no space between them. The kiss was fierce, as though Bruce wasn’t the only pining the days away and it was all it took to melt against him.

   It was, in a dramatic kind of way, exactly what Bruce imagined. The stubble of Tony’s goatee scratched enticingly against his skin, firm, calloused fingers cradled his throat softly, the smell of oil and metal filling the air around them.

   It was also, in every way conceivable, the exact opposite of how he wanted it.

   Bruce might love Tony, but he also loved Stephen. He was no home wreaker and the thought of losing the delicate friendship he’d gained was more then enough to push Tony back with a firm touch to his shoulders.

   The mechanic blinked at him lazily, a slow smile spreading across his lips and just like that Bruce couldn’t take it. He’d always been horrible in social situations, but this was inconceivable and in a panicked daze, he fled, ignoring Tony’s confused cry.

   In the silence of his bedroom, Bruce felt what it was to have your heart break.

\---

   “Bruce?”

   He looked up nearly twenty minutes later, horrified to find Stephen standing there in his doorway, expression unreadable. Bruce blinked a few times, dozens of words tumbling to the forefront of his tongue and clattering together so none could escape.

   Stephen sighed and stepped inside, hand reaching behind himself to close the door and Bruce knew he should tell him immediately what happened, wondered if Tony hadn’t already but still nothing came out.

   “I’m sorry,” Stephen ran a hand through his hair and Bruce just stared.

   Sorry? What the hell did he have to be sorry about? Bruce was the one who had just enthusiastically made out with his boyfriend, a crime made all the worst after everything Stephen had done for him.

   “You…have nothing to be sorry for.”

   Stephen’s lips unexpectedly twisted into a little smile, “you’re right, Tony should be up here apologizing but I figured all that would do was give you a panic attack.”

   Bruce couldn’t keep up, his hands were trembling, and his head was pounding, the urge to just give in closer then it had been in the weeks since beginning the exercises, since the negotiations with the Hulk.

   Warm, trembling hands were suddenly on his shoulders and he didn’t know when he closed his eyes, but it shocked him into opening them. Stephen was directly in front of him, stormy eyes looking down on him with their usual calming steadiness, “breathing, remember?”

   It was automatic now, to follow the directions that voice gave him without question. The symptoms abated quickly, and soon enough he was relaxed and letting himself be guided down to sit on the bed.

   “Why aren’t you angry?” was the first thing to come out and Stephen just looked at him for a moment.

   Slowly, carefully, as though making sure it would be welcome, Stephen gripped one of his hands, the touch tender enough to make Bruce’s heart ache. A tongue darted out to lick his lips, the move so unlike Stephen that it caught his attention easily, giving him the distinct impression that the sorcerer was nervous, and Bruce hated how confusing everything was.

   “There’s been…some miscommunication,” Stephen sighed as he said it, as though it were some minor inconvenience. “We were going to sit down and talk to you about it directly, Tony and I, but well…the man has no self-control.”

   Bruce stared at him uncomprehendingly, his very smart brain making connections that he refused to acknowledge, his entire body tensing in response, “about what?” he made himself ask.

   Stephen jaw worked for a second then seemingly gathering his courage, he met his gaze head on, “about whether or not you would be interested in the possibility of joining our relationship.”

   The words were not computing as he blinked, numb and disbelieving, “me?”

   A small smile slid over Stephen’s lips, “yeah, you.”

   Bruce shook his head, trying to understand, “Tony…you…want me to…”

   “Only if you want.”

   Of course, he wanted, it was all he had wanted. The problem was that it was impossible, utterly and completely impossible and not only because of the Hulk but because he was Bruce Banner and they were…everything he wasn’t.

   “You’re thinking too much,” the familiar direction made his mind pause instantly, his voice forever commanding.

   “Bruce,” he looked into Stephen’s eyes and the sincerity took his breath away, the conviction as he spoke enough to make him just listen. “Tony has wanted you for a very very long time. Straight from the start when you met and me…well even before that, which is a very long story. But one I’m hoping to share.”

   His mouth opened uselessly again but Stephen rushed ahead as if afraid not being able to say his piece would end it all, “the only question you need to answer is if you want us too, the rest can be figured out.”

   Bruce didn’t know what to do but he did know what he wanted. If there was one thing Bruce felt more strongly then love for these two men, it was trust.

   He nodded hesitantly.

\---

   The alarm went off with the blaring shriek typical of Stephen’s making. The man loved his obnoxious clocks. Instinctively, Bruce rolled over to bury his face in the crook of Tony’s neck, only to feel the man trying to do the same, earning a low chuckle from Stephen.

   Trembling fingers ran through his hair, prompting Bruce to blink up at Stephen, who had already slipped on a robe. No words were needed as Stephen pressed a quick kiss to his hair and another to Tony’s forehead, who only grumbled at the contact.

   Stephen would go downstairs to put on the coffee and Bruce would follow in about five minutes, never able to sleep once he’d been woken. He and Stephen would stand there, sipping their respective drinks, until inevitably Tony would stumble out of bed, steal Bruce’s and force the scientist to grab another.

   The routine was nice. Bruce was happy.

   What a revelation that was. He never could have imagined his life turning out like this, with not one but two men he loved dearly waking up with him every morning. He chose not think about it too hard, remembering the exercises Stephen taught him and trying to live in the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> I almost deleted this three times but couldn't bear to see all my frustration be for nothing.


End file.
